Are We Having Fun Yet
by binkeybella
Summary: A little glimpse into what might be going on in Gibbs's head concerning his treatment of his loyal SFA. Just my own take on it, I have no idea where they're going with this plot line, and a way for me to get back in the saddle for fic. Not beta'd. Rated T for swearing.


_**This is how you remind me**_

 _ **Of what I really am.**_

 _ **It's not like you to say sorry,**_

 _ **I was waiting on a different story.**_

 _ **This time, I'm mistaken for handing**_

 _ **You a heart worth breaking.**_

 _ **I've been wrong, I've been down**_

 _ **To the bottom of every bottle**_

 _ **These five words in my head**_

 _ **Scream 'are we having fun yet?'**_

 _ **How You Remind Me - Nickelback**_

He knew that the saying 'deja vu all over again' was about as tired and worn out as he was feeling right now, but it was the only thing Tony could come up with to describe the situation he had found himself in. Head injury-near death experience-bullseye on his back was all flooding back after almost ten years out, and quite honestly, he was expecting the ghost of Jenny Shepard to show up and offer him an out via some cockeyed, half-assed undercover mission. Well, he could dream about it happening, anyways.

The trip to Shanghai and subsequent termination of Daniel Budd had left him feeling oddly empty, with a residual taste in his mouth that he could only describe as, well, _distaste._ He had no doubt of the evil that dwelt in Budd, and that the world was a better place without the man living and breathing. The man had been completely responsible for the death of Ned Dornegat, and dozens of other heinous crimes.

So why did he feel so uneasy about being the one to end the scumbag? Not only was it his job, he had brought down one of NCIS's Most Wanted. And though he'd expected no special fanfare for doing it, he'd have thought he'd at least have gotten some sort of positive feedback from his boss. He'd long since given up on getting the shoulder squeeze or hair tousle so often afforded to McGee, but a 'good job, DiNozzo' would have gone a long ways in quelling the uneasiness he'd felt since arriving back in the States.

Not only had he not heard a single word of praise from Gibbs, but the man had barely given him the time of day over the past few months. Tony had tried to do his thing to pitch in and help the former Marine by offering to shop for groceries or cook a nice home made meal for him, but all offers had been rebuffed, and gruffly, at that. Ducky had assured him that it was just Gibbs ratcheted up on pain with a healthy dose of anger and self-recrimination to go along with it, and Tony had been able to buy that for a while. He knew what it was like to deal with the level of pain Gibbs must have been in; knee injuries were shockingly agonizing, bringing torture to new levels.

But it was over four months in, and Gibbs was barely sporting a limp. Tony was immensely glad for that, though he didn't know just how much the man was hiding from them regarding his level of discomfort. He himself was a master of illusion when it came to hiding pain from any type of injury, and had no doubts that his boss could one-up him on that particular skill, too.

And that was a problem for Tony, a big one. Not only was the older man most likely hiding physical pain from his friends, there was a definite bad vibration from the man directed at his SFA. Job-wise, it didn't matter at the moment how Gibbs felt about his second in command; he was still officially on sick leave. But after more than a decade as teammates, Gibb's welfare went way beyond what was needed to be a competent leader – the man was his friend, and had been, in the past at least, more of a father to Tony than DiNozzo Senior was willing or capable of being.

Right now the coldness emanating from the Senior agent towards his SFA was as far as Tony could imagine from the often protective and familial actions the man often showed towards him when the rest of the world wasn't watching. If that wasn't enough proof of something gone wrong in their relationship, Tony had just gotten shown all he needed to know where he stood with the former Marine.

He'd pressed Gibbs earlier in the week about what was up between them, and just minutes ago in Autopsy, had mistakenly offered friendly support and a solicitous hand to his boss's shoulder, only to get it taken off at the elbow. Gibbs had violently thrown it off, his eyes and body language leaving Tony in no doubt as to where he stood with the man.

Well, hell. What had he done wrong now? Gotten Gibbs to life-saving medical attention – check. Followed orders – check. Taken down a thoroughly souless criminal mastermind – check. Lead the team four over four months while Gibbs charged through his recovery – check. If this was another territory issue brewing, then it was going to be nipped in the bud, now. He wasn't going to allow himself to be put through that kind of hell again, skittering back behind his old desk without protest after Gibbs rode into town and reclaimed his throne.

He'd mostly forgiven the man for that inexcusable piece of thoughtless theatrics, but he had far from forgotten it. What he was back then was not what he was now. Years of self-recrimination and reflection, along with some very long private talks with Cate's sister Rachael had all but cured him of allowing that kind of behavior to be inflicted upon him. He would always cut his friends and teammates some slack, especially Gibbs, but no longer intended to give them enough rope to let them hang him.

Waiting until the end of the day, when both he and Gibbs had had some distance and time to collect their thoughts – well, he doubted Gibbs had felt the need to do any reflecting on what had happened in Ducky's workspace, but _he_ sure as hell had needed some space to sort out his head before it flew off his shoulders – he descended on Casa Gibbs, fully expecting to get bodily thrown out and never allowed to return. The bodily tossing out he could handle – never being allowed back into a space that was sacred to him made his teeth clench and his mouth taste like ashes.

Gibbs was at his dining room table, pen in hand and hot tea at the ready. Dinner dishes had been pushed to the side for the moment, and Tony could see the carrying bag it had arrived in. Skull and crossbones, a drop-off from Abby. Ahh, dear, beloved, do-no-wrong Abby. He wondered for the thousandth time what it was like to be her. Always loved, always forgiven, always the favorite. Not even the prodigal son; more like the -

"Whataya need, DiNozzo?" Gibbs grouched, not looking up from his papers.

The gruff, hard-line voice. Not an ounce of even tough-love coming through in it.

"Needed to know if I'm still your SFA or if you're making some changes in the near future."

"This again, DiNozzo?" Gibbs sighed, as if weary beyond measure.

"Yeah, this again, Boss. Because once again I don't know where I stand with you, other than on the outside looking in. You haven't exactly been keeping me in the loop."

"Just 'cause I don't want you coddling me you think I'm shutting you out?"

"I don't call a concerned squeeze of the shoulder coddling, but yeah, I _know_ you're shutting me out. _Me._ Not Abby, not Ducky or McGee or Bishop. Me. And I need to know why. Because I'm not making the same mistake I made nine years ago and letting this turn into a DiNozzo hate-fest."

"Jesus, Tony, where the hell do you _get_ this stuff, nobody _hates_ you, just get over yourself!"

"Wow. And back atcha, Boss. The part about getting over yourself, anyways. You won't even look me in the eye, much less talk about what happened four months ago. Or is it the same old shit as before, you re-marking your territory by showing me who the top dog is? 'Cause that's old stuff. If I'd wanted to be top dog, I'd have taken Rota, or any of the other leads that have been offered to me since then."

"Then why don't you, DiNozzo? You wanna be _me_ so bad, go find a team and _lead_ it! I'm sure that even _Vance_ would put in a good word for you now that you've offed the big bad Budd!"

It was as if a mini-bomb of a light bulb had gone off inside Tony's head at that last statement. Wowser. That's what this was all about.

"Seriously? You're mad because I went after Budd when you couldn't?"

"He was _mine_ , DiNozzo, _**mine**_! You had no right -"

"I had orders! And I followed them!"

"So you just leave me behind to live or die to go off and be the hero!"

"Jesus Christ! What the _hell,_ Boss? You think I _wanted_ to leave you like that? I. Had. Orders. And contrary to public opinion about what a screw-up I am, I DO follow them, even when I don't want to. I argued with Vance, he told me to knock it off and do my job and find Budd. I did that. And look where it got me. In the Jethro Gibbs doghouse yet again. And where the hell do you get off thinking every criminal out there is _yours?"_

"He was the mastermind behind it all, if it hadn't been for him -"

"You wouldn't have gotten shot and almost died. Yes, it _is_ all about you, isn't it, Jethro? It's your job and your job only to save the world. Well I've got news for you, Boss. You weren't the only one in the universe hurt by the man. Ned was a friend of mine, and a good man. I may have hassled him, but he knew I liked him. And he was turning into a good agent. You don't have the market cornered on taking down the bad guys. I know with your record you don't give it a second thought, but there are others out there who take their jobs and other people's lives just as seriously.

"And as far as leaving you behind, I truly am sorry about not being there when you woke up. I could have quit and stayed with you, but that wouldn't have solved anything, other than letting Budd get farther out of our reach to kill more innocent people, and I couldn't let that happen, not just so you could wake up and see me and feel connected to something. And we know it wouldn't have mattered anyways. The time it took you to wake up, how many more people would have died?"

"I didn't know where you were. I asked for you and no one would tell me. Thought you were dead back in Iraq. I woke up, you still weren't there."

Another bulb-bomb went off in Tony's head. Gibbs had thought he was dead, and it had shaken up the stoic man. He could see by the discomfort on his boss's face that the former Marine had been upset with the prospect and he felt badly about it, but it still didn't change things.

"And I apologized for that. So how long are you going to punish me for following orders, Boss?"

"Not punishing you, DiNozzo." Gibbs grumbled.

"Oh really? Because it sure feels like it to me. And truthfully, I'm not the same guy I was nine years ago. You either need to figure it out, or find another Senior Field Agent." 

"Not like you have to worry about it now, DiNozzo, you're still Team Lead until the powers that be say I can come back. And no one's said they'll let me out in the field again."

"Then we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, but I won't be your whipping post for doing my job. I respect the hell out of you, and owe you a lot for bringing me onto your team, but I'm not the same insecure kid you brought back from Baltimore. Somebody – a bunch of somebodies, actually – knocked that all out of me some years back. I won't let myself get used like that ever again, not even by you."

"Then I guess we're going to have some problems, then, DiNozzo, 'cause I intend to come back better than I was before I got dropped."

"Power to you, then, Boss. But I'm not gonna roll over and play dead this time. I'll lead the team as I see fit until I think that you're fit to lead them again. No coming back half-assed and me having to worry about covering all of our asses because you can't remember names and faces."

"Not like I was before, DiNozzo." Gibbs ground out angrily.

"Good. I'm glad for that. But I need more than your say-so. And in the meantime, you're either on my six, or you're the enemy. No in between there for me. I don't have the energy anymore to fight a battle on two fronts." 

Gibbs eyed the younger man with distaste, and what Tony could only describe as barely disguised rage.

Whatever. The man would either figure out the reality of the situation, or he would continue to live in the Stone Age where might made right instead of logic and good, solid decision-making. Gibbs was the last person he wanted as an enemy, and not just because the man was meanest, fiercest warrior he had ever encountered. He truly loved the man, and didn't want to see their years-long friendship turn into something volatile and nasty. He'd had enough loss to last a lifetime, and losing Gibbs from his life – well, he would never forget how it felt back in the desert, holding the badly injured man close and praying with everything he had that he could find him the medical attention Gibbs needed before he bled out. He didn't ever want to have that feeling again. And he hoped that Gibbs himself would understand that, and be able to find a balance between the life he'd known and the life he had now.


End file.
